The Forbidden Play
by storm8saika
Summary: What if you had to sacrifice everything you had once known for love? What if you could? All that you have ever known will slip away from the instant you step into love's grip. Would you do it? Would you leave it all for love?" Note: Visit Profile
1. Chapter 1

The Deepest Goodbye

His mouth tasted of whiskey, flavored with a hot and sweet tang. His scent completely invaded her mind, her sight, and her mouth as he devoured her in pleasure. She shuddered, collapsing underneath him as he continued to please her in the most intimate and sensual ways possible. Her heart craved for him, as the deep essential part of her soul spoke of dreams and fantasies as she whispered his name.

"You're so beautiful." He smiled.

She moaned in pleasure and exasperation. He grasped her hand, fingers entwined, as they descended upon the Earth together. With heated flesh mounted over the tussled sheets, after a long struggle of impatience, he began to thrust forward, and pain dissolved into a thousand pieces of shards of a single, powerful sensation she embraced almost inadvertently. She felt an inexplicable emotion, and a wave of gratitude struck her as she melted into delight like wax that softened from a candle's flame.

"I love you." She sighed softly.

"I love you too…Hermione."

Her heart shattered when he whispered the other girl's name. Her eyes stung with tears as she hastily pushed away the sheets, sitting up instantly.

"You just said…" her throat was parched.

"Lily-" he began.

"No, don't." Lily's voice shook with anger.

She tossed the pillows aside and reached for her clothes from the discarded pile on the velvety blue carpet. Her dark red hair tangled into a wild mess. She slipped into the yellow frock she wore earlier during the evening.

"I'm sorry, Lily. Her name just slipped out. I really didn't mean to hurt you." The boy looked up at her desperately.

"I just can't do this anymore, James. You still lover her."

"She doesn't mean anything to me, anymore." James muttered.

Lily stared into his eyes, her bright green irises burning with fire and ripe anger. "Don't you dare lie to me, Potter!"

"I deeply care about you. Don't deny it, Evans."

"But not enough for me. Not as much as her. You love me but you love her. And you love her a lot more."

"Don't go." He cried out frantically.

"Tonight was very special to me James. In fact, I'd say tonight was the best night of my life. But it will never become real enough for the both of us."

She tasted something wet and salty on her lips. Lily looked at the mirror placed over the dark, wooden door, watching her tears flow gently down her cheeks. Her face was a bright pink, the back of he neck drenched with sweat. Her lips were full and smothered, but dry. There was no trace of sleep in her eyes.

"Don't go." He repeated, standing up immediately.

"I have to go." She rasped in a choked whisper before heading out past the door that sealed her exit from the room. Lily was there no more, as James was left in the shrouded darkness of the uncanny silence…

"Hermione…" He murmured in the shadow.


	2. Chapter 2

Pulse

Hermione Granger looked towards the gray, dreary enchanted sky. The Great Hall was filled with murmurs and low voices over this week's events. The castle was full of gloom and despair, and why shouldn't it be? She had counted five Death-Eater attacks, two werewolf attacks, six Dementor attacks, and three murders. It wasn't even something Hogwarts could possibly ignore anymore. The incidents had been prolonged and anticipated at different levels and at different times. Time. Hermione was reminded strongly of the small object beneath her robes.

"…Isn't that just bloody brilliant? We're still getting exams and with all those essays…" Ronald Weasley broke off in a sigh.

"Double potions with Slytherin today." Harry Potter said bitterly. "As if we don't have enough to do already."

"Mind you." Hermione frowned. "Why should you even worry about potions now that you've got Slughorn all worked up about your stupid skills with that that stupid book?"

He lowered his voice. "Hermione, are you sure about using the time-turner again? Your schedule's going to be really packed."

"Don't try to change the subject, and besides, it's easier to manage this year. Didn't I survive the first two weeks?"

"Sixth year is supposed to be difficult, after the O.W.L session from fifth year." Harry pointed out.

Hermione said nothing, shoving a forkful of scrambled eggs into her mouth. "Everyone's worried about this year."

"They should be." Harry said through gritted teeth.

She stared at him, her features softening, and remembered Sirius. "Harry…"

"It doesn't really matter at Hogwarts. I mean, with Dumbledore around we've got all the protection we need, right?" Ron shrugged, spreading jelly over a bit of toast.

"I'm perfectly aware of that Ron." Hermione snapped. "But think about their parents and families that live outside of Hogwarts. What if you get mail one day, and you get told that something terrible happened-"

"Alright, alright." He mumbled. "So what do you both have for first class today?"

"Uh…" Harry looked down at his schedule sheet. "I have Herbology first."

Hermione helped herself to a piece of bacon. "I've got both Arithmancy and Herbology."

Ron rolled his eyes. "At least we've all got Herbology first, even with the time-turner." He shot a glare at Hermione. "You're just going to get wiped out before exams start again."

She ignored him, searching frantically in the air for owls. "Here they come."

Owls soared into the Great Hall, releasing packages and parcels from their two little legs or beaks. Vibrant flashes of color zoomed towards the Gryffindor table. Hedwig glided gently towards Harry with a letter in her beak.

"It's from Viktor Krum." Harry looked surprised.

"What's he saying?" Ron asked.

Hermione snatched the letter, scanning it thoroughly, and giggled. "He's asking Harry to come to his home in Bulgaria this summer."

"Why?" Ron looked disgusted.

"He's asked me too, you know." She smiled. "Just a long time ago. He probably just wants to see us."

Ron cringed at the thought of seeing Krum's face again. "That's stupid. Why would Krum think we'd want to go on vacation when you-know-who's waving his wand around and murdering people?"

"I don't think he asked you, Ron." Hermione snapped.

"And I couldn't care less if some bloke with no brains-"

"Can we just get to class, please?" Harry groaned.

"Fine." They both mumbled, standing up from their seats.

The trio proceeded to Herbology after breakfast where Professor Sprout was waiting for the sixth-year Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs in front of the greenhouse.

"Good morning, everyone." She chirped halfheartedly. "We're doing Reducible Fungi today."

She motioned the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs towards a large wagon full of pliers and shovels in front of a large patch of shrubs and plants. "There are about a hundred reducible fungi in this patch right now. I trust that if you have read the chapter from last week you'll know what these unusual plants are. Would anyone care to give a detailed description?"

Hermione's hand shot up in the air. "Yes, Miss Granger?"

"Reducible Fungi can reduce the amount of bleeding and effects of diseases from drinking the juice extracted from crushing the fungi. The fungi can only reduce, but not cure completely."

"Five points to Gryffindor. You'd have received ten if you had mentioned a very important detail. Fungi can also reduce in size depending on the number of years that have passed. A normal reducible fungi starts out four feet tall."

Hermione blushed. "Sorry."

"Don't fret about it dear." Professor Sprout smiled, and turned towards the rest of the class. "Anyways, the fungi in the patch have shrunk at certain lengths. Remember, reducible fungi cannot tolerate the cold. They like warm places. Usually they camouflage with dirt or plants. In other words, green and brown are the key places to look at first."

"Today you will be digging and searching for Reducible Fungi with those tools in the wagon. Everyone should split into groups of five. Pick one member to collect five pliers and five shovels afterwards. The team with the most fungi will be prized with no homework tonight. Use your knowledge and try to figure out where to look. Start grouping!"

Five minutes later Hermione, Harry, Ron, Dean Thomas, and Lavender Brown had begun to dig up the earth. "Look under the sunlight!" Hermione advised.

"So, Hermione." Dean scooped some dirt out, digging a large, deep hole. "Do you know if Ginny's doing anything this Saturday?"

"No. Why?" She shoveled dirt into a large, neat pile.

"Found one!" Ron cried out.

"That's great, Ron!" Hermione responded, and then turned to Dean. "So, where were we?"

"I was about to tell you why I was interested in knowing Ginny's plans for the weekend."

"And?" Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"I wanted to take her out to Hogsmeade."

"That's great! Are you celebrating a two-week anniversary?"

Dean grinned sheepishly. "I guess."

"Hermione, come over for a second. I want to know if this is a reducible fungi." Harry called.

Hermione strode over towards Harry, examining the object in his hands. "Yes, it is. Why'd you _really_ call me?"

"What was that all about?"

"What?"

Harry glanced at Dean. "You don't normally talk to-"

"Oh Harry." She chuckled lightly. "You sound just like Ron. He's just asking about Ginny."

"Oh." He grumbled.

She looked at him wondrously. Harry was acting so odd. He wasn't acting like his usual self. Why did he seem to dislike Dean this year? She thought about Ginny, a knowing smile ready perch onto her mouth. Ginny, obviously, still likes Harry, of course. If only she knew how he was acting lately, she thought with a sigh.

"Yuck!" Lavender shrieked, bringing her out of her thoughts. "This is so gross!" she held a tiny brown object, sticking against her thumb, refusing to leave as she tried flicking it off.

"Don't!" Hermione called out warningly. "I think it's a fungi."

An hour passed by quickly when they had collected sixteen reducible fungi, avoiding the pain of a foot-long essay. Hermione split apart from the group, and started turning her time-turner, heading for Arithmancy with Professor Vector. Hermione had always liked Arithmancy. The numbers meant logic, something she prized and valued so highly. The classroom itself was organized. Large mahogany brown desks in tidy rows, dark blue walls contrasting well with the creamy yellow curtains and red carpet, drawers closed with green tabs to keep its contents in neat order, the fresh smell of new books and ink and parchment…

She sat down quietly at her desk, not really paying much attention to the cluster of numbers on the thick roll of parchment. She thought about dinner back home, Sirius, getting a new owl, the pink roses in her garden back home, her father's large cigar, death-eaters, train stations, Harry and the prophecy, and Ron. Her mind was jumbled with a series of thoughts that befuddled her immensely. Ron. When would he finally come to know? When will he understand her feelings, and what will he do when he finally comes to understand?

"Something wrong, Hermione?"

She spun around in her seat to see a concerned Cormac McLaggen. He'd been the new boy in her class. She'd never really talked to him before, only watching him from afar, never in admiration until…

"Umm…not really. I'm just tired, is all. I didn't get enough sleep last night."

"Try to sleep tonight." He smiled, dazzling her.

She felt her pulse quicken at a rapid motion. "I will."

When class had ended with time ticking by ever so slowly, she shuffled the items sprawled about her desk into her bag and strode out the doorway where Ron and Harry met with her.

"We've got a break for a half hour." Ron said lazily. "What do you say to a good game of Gobstones, Harry?"

"No!" Hermione exclaimed. "Haven't you both noticed how much homework we've been loaded with? I think it's best if we go to the library to finish first. We can't just procrastinate all the time!"

Ron stared at her in disbelief. "Are you out of your mind? There is no bloody way that I'm going to waste all this time for-"

"I'm with Hermione. Seriously Ron, we've got to do some work. So we've escaped Sprout, but who knows what Snape's got for us this afternoon."

"Fine." Ron looked disappointed. "Let's go."

They started walking down the moving staircase in silence.

"Got any word from Dumbledore yet?" Ron asked. "I wonder what he's going to teach you…"

"Well whatever it is, I hope Harry has enough spare time to do it. I mean if he doesn't finish all that homework-"

"Hermione, don't you ever care about anything else besides school?" Ron said in frustration.

She winced. "Of course I care about other things, but education should be a top priority, Ron, I mean-"

"Stop bickering!" Harry said indignantly. "That's all you two do all day."

Hermione opened her mouth to answer back when she collided into someone.

She staggered backwards. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"Watch where you're going Granger. Now I need to go take a bath to get your smell off of me."

She glared coldly at the arrogant blond.

"Sod off, Malfoy." Ron snapped irritably.

"Weasel and Potty." He smirked. "_Trying_ to play Quidditch again, Weasley?"

"Shove it Malfoy." Harry retorted.

"You mean the way I shoved my fist up your nose not too long ago? I wouldn't mind doing it again."

"Let's just go, please?" Hermione pleaded.

"Yeah, go on and take the filthy mudblood away. She's already got enough dirt on my robes" Malfoy sneered.

"Really? Well I bet she's not the one who got the dirt in your mouth."

"Seriously, Weasley? Bet _you_ can't even afford to get washed-"

"Don't you ever get tired of being so malicious, Malfoy?" Hermione said wearily.

"Yeah, stop being an idiot and go play with your father in Azkaban. We don't have time to listen to you." Harry spat.

The retort wiped the smirk off his face. "That's okay, scar-head." He scowled. "You'll have time later on. Plenty of time, before you join Black in hell-"

Malfoy didn't have time to finish when Harry and Ron had practically jumped on him. The next few minutes were of utter chaos as the three fought frenetically and wildly. "Protego!" Hermione shouted, but the spell missed the boys by a few inches.

Everything whizzed by in a haze. Malfoy aimed a stunning spell at Ron, and missed him, hitting Hermione straight in the chest instead. Hermione never felt such a peculiar sensation. It seemed odd. Her world seemed to be spinning, as her eyes felt tender, and her body frozen. She heard Harry calling out her name as she sank away slowly, listening the sound of crushing glass.

She plunged backward, suddenly hearing her mother's lullaby drifting through her head. The air that whipped by seemed vast, cold, sudden…she felt her hair spilling wildly from the bun she kept throughout the morning, her arms flaying, as she fell gracefully. Hermione was flung into a deep, dark tunnel. Endless…ink sprawling from her soul like hysteria, like the rhythm of the sea, or churning butter, molten gold, fresh-baked bread, gardens filled with lilacs, roses, daisies…she felt completely dull, passive, and somewhat bizarre. And then, her mind slipped from her life she desperately clung on to, and she floated off into darkness…

Hermione felt few drops and sunlight against her skin. She could hear someone calling her name. So softly, so quietly…She reached for the air, flower petals streaming down from the soft, bulbous white clouds. She was still, so still like a tree bathing under the gleaming sun. She was a part of the grass-no she was grass.

It might have been hours or days or perhaps even weeks when Hermione opened her eyes. Her head felt groggy, as if something crawled within. She felt farthest away from time. Her sense of time was suddenly so light. Her head was heavy and swollen with thoughts succumbing to her mind.

The castle looked no different, but empty. She was stunned by the vacancy. Surely Ron and Harry wouldn't have left her alone after the brawl. But she knew she was by herself, with not a single soul around. Hermione placed a hand on the banister for support. She was slightly dizzy, but managed to walk. Warm, thick liquid dribbled her nose. She pressed her hand, staring blankly at the oozing blood, and grimaced. Hermione reached around for her wand, pointing directly at her own nose, and muttered a spell. The bleeding stopped, but she felt so numb, so sore.

"Why did they leave me?" She whispered in confusion.

Something large and heavy made her neck feel pressured with weight. She felt the slim, golden chain attached to the bulk under he robes. The time-turner! She had forgotten about that one particular item. She brought it out, examining it, and gasped. A great deal of sand hand spilled from the hole in the glass. Malfoy's spell was fatal to the fragile object. The sudden apprehension hit her squarely in the head. What was she going to say to the teachers? How was she to explain?

"Don't panic." she whispered to herself.

Hermione directed her wand at the time-turner, creating a barrier of a thick elastic substance in case the sand started to drip again. That was when she heard footsteps echoing across the halls. Hermione immediately hid under a squashed space by the staircase next to a tapestry of a bowl of fruit.

"-Are you positive you head something here, James?" The voice was a light, friendly drawl, sounding somewhat familiar.

Hermione furrowed her eyebrow. Who was talking?

"Obviously, or I wouldn't have mentioned it in the first place." The second voice sounded mellow, cheeky, and throaty, full of arrogance and pride.

"There's nothing here, Prongs." The words were filled with a soft, soothing feeling about them, also sounding familiar like the first voice.

"Ah, well…guess we'd better head out before anyone sees us," said James.

"It wasn't even wise in the first place to check, you idiot. What if a teacher came along and saw us?" The first voice, Hermione noted.

"You're the idiot, Padfoot. I've checked the schedules and other possible interferences last week. All the teachers are safely secured in their classrooms. We've already got Filch distracted with the dungbombs, and Binns thinks I'm taking you to the hospital wing to get rid of your nosebleed. It's a good thing too that the nougats actually worked. You're also forgetting the whole prefect privileges that comes with-"

"What about Wormtail?" It was the soft voice.

"What about him?" Spoke Padfoot.

"He didn't want to come. I think he's afraid of skipping class."

"I can't say I'm too pleased either." The soft voice responded.

"If you can't hex them, then hex with them." Padfoot chortled.

"I believe muggles have a different way of saying that. Something more direct." The soft voice sounded thoughtful.

"You've actually been paying attention to Muggle Studies, Remus, or have you been spending too much time with that muggle-born Carolina Seymour?"

Remus sounded embarrassed. "She and I are-"

"Just friends right?" James finished off for him. "We all know that's a likely story."

The halls were filled with quiet laughter, as the boys sauntered off. The echoes grew quieter, their voices farther until they faded away completely.

James, or even Prongs? Remus? Wormtail? Padfoot? The names dawned on Hermione, pelting her with sudden realization. A deep fear etched its way into her chest, rumbling in the wake of time. Time. When she needed it to work, it didn't. Hermione Granger became perfectly aware of her situation. She knew exactly where she was, or more precisely, _when_ she was…


	3. Chapter 3

The Beast Called Time

The time that passed by was slow, careful, and prevalent. Hermione had never felt the dread of passiveness hammering straight through her heart. She felt the first waver of relief. At least she already made the first wise choice. She hid. Without much reason, she hid from view, trusting her instincts. Somehow it seemed like the reasonable thing to do. Something didn't feel right, so she decided to hide. Yet, a part of her deeply regretted her choice. The curiosity and interest driving through her for meeting these particular people was evidently great. No, she thought, if they saw me, terrible things might impact the future. Professor McGonogall had warned her earlier about the different penalties many wizards had faced for meddling with time.

Hermione laid her head back. It was pressed firmly against the cool, marble wall of a staircase, and fell instantly as the staircase moved away to a different location. I've got to do something, she thought, rubbing the back of her neck tenderly. Her spine ached, her nose felt raw, and she had twisted her ankle. Hermione felt the jabbing pain in her leg as she tried to stand. She muttered a few incantations, making herself heal slightly in various places, but it was of no use without visiting the hospital wing. Her legs wouldn't be able to function properly. They wobbled in pain.

Hermione silently searched through her mind, skimming down the endless possibilities and outcomes. They felt limitless and yet she knew that the possibilities were restricted in numerous ways. If she tried to stay in the forbidden forest, she'd probably end up dying anyhow. Perhaps she could stay within castle grounds and become a part of Hogwarts, again. That option was also very risky and dangerous for the prospect. Hogsmeade was always a free place she would visit and roam around, maybe sleeping in the shrieking shack, but the Marauders stayed there at different points of time. And what if she never escaped this place, no, this time?

Then she thought of Dumbledore. The right man to ask for help, of course, would be Albus Dumbledore. He was the perfect wizard to consult, and yet what if she suffered consequences for revealing herself? I'm fighting a battle, she realized, and a losing one too. Hermione sighed hopelessly. Nonetheless, she would have to find a way out. The girl was perfectly, fully aware of the fact that there would be no viable way for her to go back without assistance and knowledge.

"I have to go to Dumbledore." She said it aloud, clearly and so surely. Yet, Hermione Granger was put in a rare position were she remained unsure about the course of her actions. And that was never a good sign.

She painfully staggered up the stairs, failing in her attempt at walking a faster pace. Hermione wondered how much time had passed since she came here. How long? She thought. She was able to secrete herself away from view easily with everyone sealed away in class. Rage spilled through her as she thought about Malfoy. She had never been so infuriated by him. If that agitating idiot does not suffer a severe punishment, I'm going to have a cow, she thought angrily. She laughed suddenly, realizing how foolish and absurd that sounded. Where would she get a cow in the first place? It wasn't a sensible thing to say.

She paused slightly, before sweeping past an open door. The door was left open only a bit, just ajar. Hermione quickly walked past it, feeling the pain jabbing at her legs from the sudden speed. She proceeded forward, escaping the booming voice she heard within the classroom. It sounded unfamiliar. Hermione sighed, stabbed with pity. Never in her life had she felt such pity for herself, and only herself. She felt provoked, undecided, and lonely. She made her way through the dark, unperturbed halls. There was an unsettling feeling within her. What if she never got back? What if she had to wait until her friends were born, and everything changed?

"Oh." Hermione jumped up in alarm as she collided into the large gargoyle statue. Her heart descended in dismay as she remembered something very, very important oh-so-suddenly. Entering into the Headmaster's office required a password-a password that she didn't know. "Oh no. What am I going to do?"

She sank to the ground in resignation. Maybe she would have to wait and rot into mold and rust. There was obviously no hope for her now. Hermione Granger seldom thought such a thing, but nevertheless, she thought about giving up.

"The password is Snippety Crickets." Hermione spun around, startled by the soft, warm, sweet voice to face a girl a good ten feet away. She had beautiful dark red hair, neatly braided, framing her pale, ivory face. The redheaded girl looked at her with raised eyebrows.

"Oh, thanks." Hermione smiled calmly, feeling flustered with her heart racing quickly. She needed to find some way to make sure that her identity was kept covert.

"I haven't you seen you around before," said the girl eying her black robes. "Are you from Hogwarts?"

"Umm…no, actually, I'm from the Ministry. You know, like working as an apprentice or something of the sort." She was stammering, and Hermione almost never babbled on like this. "I used to go to Hogwarts a few years ago. Maybe you just don't remember me."

"Oh, really? You work in the Ministry, and so young too?" The girl looked at her with interest. "How fascinating."

She stepped closer. Her badge pinned against her scarlet Gryffindor robes read Head Girl. The girl had freckles, plenty of them, and the biggest, bright green eyes. Then it all fell on her almost like landing into the ocean after jumping off a cliff. Hermione could almost feel the cool splash of cold, salty water splattering against her face. The girl standing in front of her was none other than Lily Potter. Or perhaps Lily Evans, She thought. Those were the same eyes Harry had.

"Sorry for the misunderstanding. I just thought you looked, well, younger." She offered an apologetic grin.

Involuntarily, Hermione ran her hands down the cloth pressed against her thighs, trying to smooth the creases. " That's okay. Uh, do you want to go first?"

"Thanks." Lily chirped. "It was a pleasure meeting you, by the way."

"You too." Hermione called after watching Lily's slender body slip into the shadows of the large statue. She'd have to wait until Lily came out of the office and left the grounds. Hermione had a horrible, queasy feeling in her stomach. Someone had seen her, and most importantly, someone who was an extremely significant character that played into her future. And yet, she felt slightly enthralled from meeting the mother of one of her best friends. Harry was certainly going to pester her with questions, _if_ she got back of course. But Hermione wasn't quite so sure about getting back, unless she registered the help of Albus Dumbledore. She needed his assistance, and his support. Who else did she have?

The statue suddenly opened again, and Lily emerged from office. "Sorry, it must have been a while."

"No, that's alright." Hermione laughed softly. "What were you doing in there anyway?" She instantly regretted those words as she spoke them. Hermione hadn't meant for them to slip out; they just did. What if Lily was dealing with her own private affairs that she didn't wish to discuss with anyone, especially not strangers?

"Reporting a complaint on some group of Gryffindor idiots. I think they call themselves the Marauders, or so I keep hearing over breakfast each morning. I just saw them go out while patrolling the grounds." Lily scoffed. "They probably think their brave, skipping class and acting out their stupid pranks like daring stunts."

"Well, I bet the headmaster won't let them get away." Hermione smiled reassuringly.

"Yes, I suppose so." Lily beamed. "Anyways, see you around. Maybe we'll meet again sometime soon."

Hermione waved at her, before disappearing past the gargoyle. The door was left open. She held on to her breath, and strode forward into Dumbledore's office. The room looked different from before, or after, actually. The walls were a deep, dark blue that contrasted well with the large, bright red hearthrug placed in the center. The place looked bare. The walls were filled with portraits of snoring headmasters, or otherwise, empty. The ceiling felt so high, and a thick layer of mist covered the glass windows. A mahogany desk stood in place, standing left from the fireplace, where orange and yellow flames leaped wildly and dangerously. Albus Dumbledore stared directly into her face, with an unfathomable expression. His blue eyes twinkled like pools of water bathed in sunlight as they stared back at her placidly in a strange trance of enthrallment. Staring at his crooked nose, his silver beard, his gentle smile…Hermione felt tears forming at the corner of her eyes, her throat desiccated and dry, and head sagging at the very end of her string of patience.

"Professor…" Hermione couldn't speak. She didn't know what to say, what should you say when you are stuck? Stuck like glue. Like grease, or maybe mud. I sound like I'm talking absolute nonsense, she thought. It was sad. Her chest was filled with a deep, rumbling miserable pain. Her stomach dragged her heart down; plunging at her feet below. Below was the home of her shadowed tears, of her crumbling heart, the endless tunnels of her sorrow…

And they fell. The tears were thick, and fast, and ungraceful but she didn't care. Her throat burned, her feet gave in. Hermione Granger was sobbing restlessly. Words tumbled from her mouth. What was she bawling about? Hermione didn't care, she didn't know, so she just wailed and cried like never before.

"I'm sorry." She wept. "Please. Forgive me."

Hermione shook uncontrollably. There were those moments in life when you didn't know what to do, and it was all a disaster. A minute later you would probably end up waking from a horrid nightmare, screaming for help. You mother would come along, and perhaps offer you comfort like Hermione's mother had once done. And you'd know that you are okay, and all that matters is that you have someone who can offer condolence ad sympathy. But Hermione never woke up from this reality, and she had no one. Sometimes, when put in a situation where you are to make decisions yourself, and when you find yourself helpless, the best thing to do is cry. And not soft, quiet, gentle tears but loud, emotional, uncontrollable tears.

Albus Dumbledore observed the girl across from his desk. He never said anything, and he did not attempt to soothe her. She had to find herself first. She didn't need anyone to stop her. Somehow he knew where she came from. His eyes followed the peculiar bulge underneath her black robes. Yes, he definitely knew where she came from. She seems to know me, he observed, and she appears to be sorry. He was concerned. But he knew he couldn't do anything but watch her wilt until she was strong enough to stand again.

"Please." Hermione sniffed. Her breath was hitched. Any second now, and she'd start with the hiccupping. "Professor, I need your help."

"How so?" Dumbledore smiled. "I don't believe I know you from here, but then again…"

"I…I don't know where to s-start, p-p-professor." She stuttered.

"Perhaps the beginning." the wise man suggested.

"I don't know where." Hermione looked up at him pleadingly.

"Or conceivably, you mean _when_." He beamed.

Her eyes widened. "I didn't tell you…" she broke off wondrously.

"No, but I assumed the object you have attempted to conceal is a time-turner. The shape of the hourglass is apparent underneath your robes."

"I believe you have also come from the future that awaits us today." He beamed at her. "Not many students in the past have come to claim a time-turner under their position unless, of course, I am mistaken."

"Professor, I really don't know how to get back." Hermione sighed. "And I don't know what I am to tell you. I might just say something that I am not suppose to say to you right now."

Dumbledore motioned her to take a seat. "Start with the first simple thing you can say. What's you're name?"

"Hermione." She trembled. "Hermione Granger."

"Ah." He slipped a large steaming mug of hot chocolate in between his lips. "I see. Now tell me. You seem to be acquainted with me, so I am guessing you must be a student here. What house do you belong to?"

"Sir, is that necessary?" Hermione questioned.

"I believe so, Hermione." She looked taken aback. It was the first time Dumbledore had ever called her Hermione rather than Miss Granger. "After all, what better place to stay than Hogwarts?"

Hermione didn't say anything, but she felt nauseated suddenly. What if she altered everything in the future? "Is it safe-"

"We'll discuss all that later. Much later, I think." He answered airily, seeming to change his mind. "What we ought to focus on right now is much more imperative and vital to reviving a chance for you to go back where you've come from. Start with how you've come here. Please spare as much detail as possible. It is really important that I remain clear from recovering excessive information about the upcoming years."

"The time-turner was struck by a spell. The hourglass must have been crushed from the hit. Consequently, I woke up here and discovered a chuck of glass absent from the top half, or bottom half. I suppose it depends on how you turn it around."

"May I examine the hourglass?"

Hermione handed him the time-turner and watched him observe it closely. The smile that had been fixed upon his face had faded away. His eyes were filled with surprise. She felt clearly affronted by Draco Malfoy at this point of time. She was going to kill him. Hermione felt nervous. Her fingers immediately reached for the hem of her robes as sweat began to form around her palms.

Dumbledore settled the object on his desk. "Do you know what role the time-turner plays in time, Hermione?"

Silence…

Dumbledore stared her, holding her with an icy gaze. It scared her. He didn't appear to be angered. She remembered the precise electric blue shade it became when he had arrived at the Ministry. _That_ was anger. They looked like clarity right now, and Hermione needed clarity to speak to her. "A circle. The end and the beginning are the same. Just like now. You might as well do something to affect the future, and maybe the beginning begins at the time you make those changes, or it all starts with the cause for your presence here."

"Sir?" she looked confused. Why was he telling her all this? She couldn't possibly understand all this that he was trying to tell her.

"You'll understand." H sounded so sure. "The time-turner spilled enough sand to send you…" he looked at the hourglass in deep concentration. "About two decades or so, I believe?"

"Yes." She breathed slowly.

"It would have been much better for you if all the sand spilled from the broken glass at once, rather than a portion. That way you'd have stayed in your time with only a broken, repairable time-turner."

Her eyes widened. "Oh."

Dumbledore swished his wand in the air. "Indeed."

"So, umm…how do I get back, professor?"

"The sand in gathered up at one portion of the hourglass." He explained. "Flip it over, and watch the grains slowly pour out. Over time, when the sand has already fallen over to the bottom, you will be teleported directly to your time."

Hermione didn't want to ask, but it all sounded so absurd. "How are you so sure, professor. I mean, I just don't understand clearly.'

"When the time-turner is lacking a specific amount of sand, then the quantity that has disappeared can transport one back into time depending on the measure of sand, and the size of the hourglass. Time-turners are classified into different groups this way. I believe that this specific size and the sand inside represents a timeline that stretches within a range of decades. It was an accurate prediction you have confirmed when I guessed that you have come from a time period around twenty years later. I am making no presumption when I say that the remaining grains of sand signify the amount of time you have to undergo in order to return to your time."

Hermione stared at him without blinking. She understood him, but she didn't believe him, or she didn't _want_ to believe him. All she had to do wait until the sand reached the bottom, and then poof! "Is that all, professor?" she was expecting complications that would hurt her chances of going back.

He chuckled merrily. "Oh, I suppose it does sound simple. Unhappy incidents concerning the time-turner have happened to numerous wizards and witches who wanted to experiment with time. There's a book that gives a detailed description. I trust that the witch who wrote it was quite experience in the expertise of time traveling. _Transcending Into Time _by Magdalena Spark. Anyhow, the condition you will be placed in will be difficult for you to sustain. It is extraordinarily complex to be able to keep a deep secret, without a doubt."

"How much time do I have?" She murmured. Her voice was cracking again.

"The grains of sand contained in the glass are equivalent to approximately five decades."

"No!" she burst out. No, she wasn't going to start bawling again. She couldn't, not with _him_ in front of her.

"Don't worry, Hermione. I believe that what matters more than the quantity is the _speed_. One decade of sand could pass through within one day."

"Then how long, sir? How many days of waiting before going back?" She looked pleadingly at him.

"I wouldn't know until a full day has passed. Then I can tell you."

She was miserable. What if one decade took exactly one decade? At that rate, she'd meet Harry and Ron anyway. And when the time is right for her to go back, she'll go back as an old lady. She shuddered at the thought of have creases on her skin and grayed hair. If there was one thing Hermione Granger was positive of, it was her fate of more depression that was placed in store for her. She felt simply atrocious thinking about losing everything and everyone.

'Of course, you should keep the time-turner with you when the right day arrives. We don't want the hourglass to transport back to your year without you."

She nodded silently. Hermione was afraid of saying anything at all. She knew she was close, so close to exploding with tears again.

"We need to start making preparations, I suppose." Dumbledore sighed slowly. "Don't you agree, Gretel?"

Hermione stared up with a puzzled expression. "Professor, my name isn't Gretel."

Dumbledore smile lightheartedly. "It is your name. But only in _this time_."

Hermione laughed, maybe the first time she had today. She still didn't know how many days she'd be trapped here, but then again, this was a start…


End file.
